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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27236806">pink and red today, purple tomorrow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeiolite/pseuds/writeiolite'>writeiolite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bruises, Gen, Heartbreak, Miscommunication, doubts, dying love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:27:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>805</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27236806</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeiolite/pseuds/writeiolite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>it seems like kita never cares when you really need him to, always putting bandaids on unbroken bones and overlooking broken hearts</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kita Shinsuke/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fictober: Month of Magic</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>pink and red today, purple tomorrow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>crossposted on my tumblr, writeiolite</p><p>✟ — <a href="https://writeiolite.tumblr.com/post/631424600223416320/the-coven-is-calling-come-one">fictober raffle</a></p><p>[ ! ] if you want to use this fic in a reading video (like ASMR or smth), please dm/inbox me on tumblr or comment here and get my permission first</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What did I tell you about lining the candles up like that?” he sighs, not aggressive at all. It’s solemn, disappointed, but not surprised. He’s got you all figured out by now, having been with you for so long, but still, you manage to get that tone from him.</p><p>“Sorry,” you mumble, “I didn’t think they were that close to the edge of the tub...”</p><p>Kita doesn’t say anything, merely rubbing his finger over the tiger balm and then the larges bruise on your leg. You don’t even wince — his touch is ghostlike and tender, the perfect combination to amplify the hollowness in your chest. </p><p>You watch him, his eyes tired and trained on your wounds even though he has no need. Why does he keep doing this? What’s he going to get out of helping you now? He wasn’t there the other times — he always had something else he had to do that mattered more than you — but now he’s here to scold you over putting the candles too close to the bathtub while you were in it. A sour taste builds in your mouth and you edge away out of reflex. It’d be nice to be a turtle right now so you could take shelter in your shell.</p><p>He sighs deeply through his nose, his finger following your retreat and rubbing the paste on the next bruise with persistence. Even with the agitation radiating off of him, he doesn’t press any harder than before. Of all times to care for you, it had to be during the smallest of accidents. What does he want from you?</p><p>“What?”</p><p>You raise your brow at his shortness. “Nothing.”</p><p>He finally looks up at you, hands slowing to a stop and shoulders sinking. “You keep staring. Just spit it out.”</p><p><em>Spit</em> what<em> out?</em> You clench your jaw and press your tongue against the roof of your mouth, hoping that it’ll make you stop tasting the bitterness you feel. There’s so much you could tell him — that he doesn’t call when you need him the most, that you hate it when he comes home and goes straight to bed, that you want to go out to eat for a change of scenery, or just eat together at all. </p><p>Anything would be better than right now, Kita coming back with sunken eyes and dreary exhaustion, sighs falling from his lips when he sees the damage across your skin. If you could scream a “Why care now?” then you would, but there’s a nagging guilt biting at your uvula that makes you choke on those words. </p><p>“You didn’t have to do this,” you settle.</p><p>A scoff leaves him, just as soft as his sighs and he looks back down at his workspace while shaking his head. “You don’t get it, do you?”</p><p><em>Get what?</em> You narrow your eyes, irritation building up now. He’s already rubbing tiger balm onto the next bruise and the pain is subsiding in a warm fuzziness, but you wish there was a solution for the pain in your heart. Why can’t he give the same attention to your other wounds? Why is he the one always hurting you?</p><p>“Get what?”</p><p>“Why I do this.”</p><p>You should’ve known better than to expect more from your husband; the warmth and smiley tone he used to give you are boxed up in a junk corner somewhere with another part of your relationship that’s just as neglected. If he cared he would spit it out.</p><p>“I don’t care,” you sigh. Your teeth hurt from grinding them together but you can’t bring yourself to care about that either. “Just do what you want.”</p><p>
  <em>Love me if you want.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Love me when you want.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Love me how you want.</em>
</p><p>Tears fill your eyes and bile churns in your stomach. There’s no way you could say those things... He’d have to actually love you still.</p><p>Kita doesn’t answer, but you hear him screwing the lid to the tiger balm back on. He huffs when he stands, not making eye contact with you as he gets in bed with the energy of a zombie. It seems you’ve sucked the last bit of life out of him that he usually uses to get ready for bed after a long day. That guilt hits you with full force now, raging inside you with the anger you feel. </p><p>
  <em>He shouldn’t have helped me at all. Why does he make this harder for us both? Why keep pretending?</em>
</p><p>He pulls the sheets up to his ears when he’s laid down, his back to you. </p><p>You wait for it, the last bit of foolish hope dangling in front of you. It’s quiet, the lights are on, you’re bruised in every sense of the word... And you still wait for him to say words that would soothe your heart.</p><p>“Goodnight.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://writeiolite.tumblr.com">read more fics, talk to me, and show support on my tumblr.</a>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>[ ! ] if you want to use this fic in a reading video (like ASMR or smth), please dm/inbox me on tumblr or comment here and get my permission first</p></blockquote></div></div>
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